


Tourist: A love song from Paris

by avengegoose



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, this is honestly so dumb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 15:58:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15174227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avengegoose/pseuds/avengegoose
Summary: Grantaire never heard clapping before.This was new.listen to the song while reading this because sad





	Tourist: A love song from Paris

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired by Jon Cozarts song of the same title located here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8B80XV7Ndt8
> 
> And inspired by a few of the comments:   
> "i wonder how many people walking along the sidewalk just stopped and stood under his balcony just listening to the angelic voice above them"
> 
>  
> 
> "Imagine you are minding your own business and you hear some guy mumble to himself about camera placement for 20 minutes then start a song 50 times each time ending in DAMMIT! When he finally goes through the whole song satisfied, you hear him stand up and pick up the camera and walk inside."

Grantaire never heard clapping before.   
This was new.

Grantaire had experienced his fair share of heartbreak; Especially in Paris, a city he wishes he could leave behind forever. He was a serial dater (or sleeper arounder, whatever you want to call it). He went through men and women faster than he could blink, but in the end his mind was always drawn back to the blonde that had flashed into his vision one day. Grantaire had just barely caught a glimpse of the maroon leather jacket and neatly combed back blonde hair before the train door close and he was seemingly lost forever. 

Until the clapping. 

Let’s go back a little bit. Grantaire is here, in Paris, sitting on a balcony having a moment. Grantaire is learning to control his impulses and his emotions through music. It works for the most part, or at least that is what he tells himself. The music and now, the audience. Apparently people find his music (and his lopsided smile) charming, although he is still very unsure how to properly handle the prying eyes. But he will keep singing. Through the anxiety, alcoholism, and crushing disappointment, he will continue to pick up his ukulele and camera and seek solace on a balcony with a view.

Now the clapping. 

Grantaire was singing a soft new song based off of the very true story of his first time in Paris. He had planned the trip with the handsome mechanic he had been in love with for years. That was until the handsome mechanic decided he would sleep with a car salesman and Grantaire ended up on a plane by himself with a mini bottle of vodka and a broken heart. He went and experienced it all: The bottle of wine along the Seine River (admittedly he drank the whole bottle and almost fell in), a day trip to Versaille, the Eiffel tower. Grantaire could see it; The way people fell in love in and with this city, despite its grime and never ending noise. It made Grantaire long to hold hands with someone and look at them, like they were the only other person in the world. 

Grantaire stood and peered over the balcony. The man standing below it stopped clapping and grinned. Grantaire saw flashes of maroon leather. 

“Votre musique êtes très belle.”

“Je parle très peu francais.”

“Ah d’accord. I said your music is very beautiful.”

“Oh thank you for listening. It seems as if no one ever does.” Grantaire squinted at the man. He looked vaguely familiar. His blonde hair brushed his collarbone and obscured sharp cheekbones. The man from the subway flashed into his mind. The subway man had had shorter hair but that was a few years back. He wanted to jump on his chance, even if the chance was slim that this was the same man. 

“Ah I would happily listen to your music all day but I do need to go.” The balcony man began to walk away and Grantaire panicked. 

“That is too bad. A handsome man like you should not be walking the streets of Paris by himself.”

“Well I am just meeting friends at a cafe, if you would care to join me?”


End file.
